Just Another Game of Life
by Amariel
Summary: WIP. Hermione had no one, and really that was the source of all her problems: alone in the beginning, alone in the end. An unexpected visitor causes Hermione to question her isolation. [HGRL]
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. In fact, I do not own anything from Harry Potter series. But I'm pretty sure you already knew that. I also don't own the lyrics.

Author's notes: Yeah, here I go (like the smart person that I am), starting another story one week before school begins. Let's ignore my lack of foresight. Anyway, the story… Yes this will be a Hermione/Remus fic, so please don't remind me of "how wrong" it is, if this weren't fanfiction I would wholeheartedly agree. This takes place after 'the war', so remember there have been deaths. This story also alludes to relationships between Hermione and Ron, and Harry and Ginny, there may be more mentioned in the future. Well, that's all, so thanks for stopping by, and I hope you'll review.

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_Oh my friends, my friends forgive me  
__That I live and you are gone.  
__There's a grief that can't be spoken.  
__There's a pain goes on and on.  
_-Les Miserables, "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables"

...

Hermione downed her fourth shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and clumsily poured a fifth. Pondering life in its entirety, she could not help thinking how ironic everything could be.

They had won the war; Voldemort was gone forever; good had once again prevailed over evil; yet here she was utterly miserable over it all. She had lost so many friends, too many, and all in an amazingly short period of time. She had been so naïve to think that everything could be normal after it was all over, and not even this epiphany could hold back the sob that escaped her lips.

It had all started back in her fourth year when Cedric Diggory had met his untimely end. Hermione had never known the boy. She hadn't even spared a tear for him, and how could she; she had been busy worrying over Harry and that nasty reporter.

Next had been the infamous Sirius Black. He, at least, she had had the decency to cry for. _His name's clear now,_ she thought bitterly. For a while she had even felt partly responsible for his death. If only she had been more firm with Harry. Insisted harder that what he had seen wasn't real. Maybe then she could have prevented it, but she had let herself give up that fight. It hadn't been her fault; she hadn't killed him, her logic shone through at last. However, imagining dying as he had, misjudged; secretly; abruptly; brought a new bout of tears to her eyes. Although their cause quickly changed as the fifth glass of liquid burnt at the inside of her throat like red-hot daggers. She coughed harshly and reached over for the bottle. She poured out a sixth glass, which ended up more in her lap than in her cup.

Of course there had been countless unnamed deaths, wizard and muggle alike, since the end of her fifth year. Many of them mysterious as was to be expected. But the deaths of those close to her were the worst, and there was no book on grieving that could help her to dull the pain. Books, who had been her only friends for so long had finally let her down. Her faith in them seemed destroyed along with most everything else.

Hermione swooned precariously as she thought of Ron. His death had been the hardest to bear, in ways it was even worse than her parents' death. In their seventh year they had both finally admitted their fighting had only been acts of self-preservation, in case the other didn't feel the same way. They both felt the same way though; they liked each other indefinitely, perhaps even loved. But it was all short lived.

Harry hadn't been the same since then either. He was depressed beyond belief and took to long periods of solitude, which no one found particularly surprising. Well at least he had Ginny to help him through it all. Hermione had no one, and really that was the source of all her problems: a_lone in the beginning, alone in the end._

Hermione put the glass to her lips, but it slipped to the floor with a dull thud on the carpet. With one last long sigh her head rolled to the side and she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the people, places (in short, anything) associated with it.

Author's Notes: Thank you for the reviews!

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Hermione woke up with a jolt, and grimaced a second later when the headache kicked in. After she blinked away the white spots that had formed in front of her eyes, she realised that she was still in her armchair, in front of a few glowing embers in the fireplace. Groaning slightly, she got up from her chair groggily. She grabbed the empty firewhiskey bottle from the end table, but she didn't get very far. Her face collided with the floor, when she tripped over her stray glass. She didn't have time however to marvel at how the object had evaded destruction twice, when a harsh knock came from the front door of her modest apartment. Muttering absently about visitors so early in the morning, she pulled herself off of the floor and made her way over to the door with the glass and empty bottle still in hand.

Hermione staggered back a bit when she saw who was calling. "P-professor Lupin?" she started, moving the bottle behind her back hastily. It, however, did not go unnoticed.

"A little early for that, isn't it?" he asked, giving her a concerned glance. She didn't appreciate it much, so her original surprise quickly faded to annoyance.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just came by to say hi," Lupin replied pleasantly. "Oh, and no need to call me professor. It's been almost seven years after all."

"You came to say 'hi' this early?"

"It's nearly two in the afternoon," he seemed to be amused, which only served to fuel her irritability.

"Look Professor – er – Lupin – Remus – whoever you are, I'm really not in the mood to entertain," she waved the bottle violently in her frustration, no longer worried that it go unseen. Lupin sighed, and Hermione noticed he looked older, in a weary sense, as if it had only just crept up on him.

"I confess Hermione, I'm not here for a visit."

"What do you mean?" He shook his head sadly.

"I heard you haven't been to work lately-"

"So what if I haven't!" she interrupted angrily. He raised his hands in defence.

"Look I'm just worried about you, and I'm not the only one."

"No you look, I don't need anyone to worry about me. I can take care of myself!"

Remus took in her appearance then, her dishevelled hair and stained robes. Hermione felt more exposed than she had ever been in her life.

"Well, my mistake. Goodbye Miss Granger."

Hermione's words crept back over her as she watched his retreating figure silently. She hadn't really meant to be contemptible, and he had only wanted to help her out. Why couldn't she just admit defeat? Why couldn't she just allow someone to assist her for a change? _Because that's not me,_ she whispered into the stale hall air.

. . .

The image of Remus Lupin's sudden change from concern to almost indifference plagued Hermione's mind for the remainder of the day. Thinking of him made her feel almost guilty for being upset. He had lost all his friends in twenty-four hours, and then he had had to lose two of them all over again. Hermione imagined what it would be like to get Ron back for a year or two, only to have him ripped away from her a second time. That sort of irony could destroy a person. But it didn't seem to destroy Remus. He didn't seem to succumb to _trivial_ things like emotions. At least not that she had ever seen. He was always unnaturally calm and collected. He was never too angry or worried or sad or even overly happy. Probably won't give into anything because of his lycanthropy, she figured. But this brought about a fresh new batch of thoughts. He didn't really have anyone because of his affliction. That in itself was ironic. He was possibly one of the most pleasant people she knew, but hardly anyone would ever know that, and all for one night a month. Having his three best friends, who had openly accepted him without a second thought, ripped away must have been torture of the greatest kind.

Hermione sighed, guilty indeed. She went over to her antique desk, and grimaced at the shape she had allowed it to fall into. There was a thin layer of white dust obstructed only by a few empty bottles of firewhiskey and a pile of unopened mail. Ignoring all of this, she pulled a piece of parchment out from a drawer and grabbed a quill from another. She rubbed the dried ink off of the nib and dipped it into her inkbottle. Then she paused. What could she possibly write?

'Sorry Remus, forgot people might care about me'?

'Didn't mean to be rude, didn't know any of my friends were still living'? _Merlin, no way._

"I can do this," she said to herself, and placed the quill to the parchment.

_R. Lupin_

_I would like to apologise for my earlier behaviour. It was very childish of me to act in that way. Please accept my apology by having tea with me tomorrow afternoon._

_Hermione Granger_

She folded up the letter neatly and turned to her owl's cage. Empty. When she thought about it, it had been empty for quite some time.

"Well this just won't do at all," she said aloud, her sense of annoyance returning tenfold. She threw open the study window and shouted out in vain. "Socrates! _Socrates!_"

Needless to say her owl did not return. However another barn owl happened to be flying towards her. When she saw the rather pompous posture of the bird, and the official looking letter tied to its leg, her annoyance was hastily replaced with foreboding. Despite working for the Ministry of Magic, the last time she had received a letter from them was when her parents had been murdered in her seventh year.

The owl stuck its leg out importantly and clucked its beak angrily at her hesitation. Reluctantly she untied the scroll and snatched it (and her hand) away before it could peck at her. It took off before she could ask it to deliver her letter. With one last groan she unrolled it and read.

_Miss Granger_

_It has not escaped our notice that you have failed to show up for work three days this week and more than seven days this month alone. Given you help in regards to the events concerning He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, these absences shall be disregarded. However future disregard of ministry policy will have reprimanding results. Your presence at work will be expected on Monday at the time that your regular schedule dictates. _

_Percy Weasley  
Head Under-secretary for the Minister of Magic _

Hermione was more curious about why Percy (or Mr. Weasley as he was usually referred to) was sending her the letter and not the head of her own department. Probably don't want unwelcome eyes seeing who was in charge of the Department of Mysteries, she after all, had never received a work related letter from the ministry.

Shrugging slightly she threw the notice into the garbage can. _So ends my little vacation,_ she thought, rolling her eyes. Hermione was equally tempted to throw her letter to Remus in the trash as well. But as luck would have it another owl was flying towards her. She noticed a badge around it: the Owl Post. She pulled off the letter and put a knut tip in its pouch for being more pleasant than the ministry owl. She read the letter quickly, and for the third time in twenty-four hours marvelled at irony.

_Meet me for tea tomorrow. Leaky Cauldron. 3:00 p.m. I won't take no for an answer._

_Remus Lupin_

_P.S. I prefer Remus to 'whomever'._


End file.
